Precious Treasure
by Purple.Slippers.18
Summary: Korra realized, with a large measure of guilt, that these were more than just pictures to Mako. Once upon a time, they had been his life.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or Legend of Korra_

**A/N:**_ Hello everyone! Well, I just wanted to say thanks to those who have been reading and reviewing and favoriting my fics. It means alot ladies and gents, and it keeps me typing away at my keyboard everyday. I also wanted to extend a very special 'thank you' to a particular reviewer who commented on my fic, _LIFETIMES_. Since they posted anonymously_,_ I couldn't get a hold of them to thank them personally, so I just wanted them to know that I was truly touched by their comments. I had no idea that _LIFETIMES_ would be the fic that alot of people have seemed to flock to, and for that, I am very humbled. _

_Thank you._

_Now, on with the reading!_

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><p><strong>Precious Treasure<strong>

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"Well, this is it," Bolin said, pulling on the flimsy drawstring. The naked light bulb flickered spastically, casting eerie orange light into the stuffy little room before sputtering and burning out.

"So, new light bulbs?" Korra commented good naturedly as she used her firebending to generate a lively flame in the palm of her hand. She stepped into the room, noting the piles of old gym equipment, the boxes of moth eaten uniforms, and the musky scent of stale sweat that had settled in the air.

"I'll get the window," Bolin offered when he noticed Korra's nose twitch. Bumping into several bits of clutter, the seventeen year old reached over a sagging punching bag and pulled back the rickety shutters. The wood fell apart in his hands, letting in the brilliant white sunlight. Chuckling, the earthbender fought with the sliding glass panel, managing to tug it aside so that fresh air could attack the pungency of the room. "That's better."

Extinguishing her fire, Korra smiled at Bolin and took in all that the space had to offer. It was small, much smaller than her dorm on Air Temple Island. Toza had used the chamber as a storeroom, and it seemed that Mako and Bolin hadn't seen a need to touch the room once they moved into the modest apartment their grisly sensei had offered them. There was a lot of old equipment and knick-knacks to move, and about a decade's worth of dust to clear out, but with a good scrub down, some polish, maybe even some new wallpaper, the little closet could be transformed into a cozy bedroom for the young Avatar.

"You know you guys don't have to do this," Korra said.

"Ah, it's not a problem. It's time Mako and I did something with this room anyway."

"But you don't have to make it a bedroom for me. You could use it for something else."

"Sure, we could make it Bolin's knitting room," Mako joked dryly as he leaned against the doorframe.

"This coming from the guy with the scarf," Bolin drawled, examining a crate filled with damaged boxing gloves. "So, Korra, do you want the room?"

"And give up your couch? Hmm, tough choice."

It really was very nice of the brothers to offer her the room. Although she lived with Tenzin and his family on Air Temple Island, sometimes the demands of pro-bending, or the needs of the city, or even the ever increasing anti-bending rallies, required Korra to stay on the mainland. For the past two months she would occasionally crash on Mako and Bolin's sagging chesterfield, often waking up with a stiff neck, but always grateful that they accommodated her. Now, they were donating a spare room in their apartment to her, a space she could call her own for those times when she needed a safe haven.

"Well," she said, clapping her hands together, "let's get started!"

"First things first," Bolin announced, "I'm gonna go to the hardware store and buy some new light bulbs, see if they have any used shutters at a good price, and we'll need some tools too. I'll be back in a bit."

Waving goodbye to her friend, Korra swept her gaze over the room, deciding that it was best to start with extracting the boxes of moth-eaten uniforms. It would help freshen up the air faster.

"You know he only ducked out because he's sweet on the girl that works at the hardware store," Mako said.

Korra just shrugged, not bothered by Bolin's ulterior motives.

"So long as he comes back eventually. You gonna help?"

Mako was already rolling up his sleeves. For over an hour the pair sorted and stacked and discarded boxes upon boxes of junk. They burned the moldy uniforms, salvaged what they could of the punching bags, fighting pads and helmets, even found what looked to be an old model of Toza's leg brace.

"I'll bring it to him later," Mako said, gently carrying the bent contraption out to the living room. "He might be able to use it for spare parts."

Korra wiped the sweat from her brow and sighed. She and Mako had made a significant dent in the clutter, but there was still a lot to sort through, and as the sun climbed higher in the sky the apartment was getting warmer, making the excavation more of chore than it needed to be. But Korra wasn't one to back down from a task just because of a little heat. So, after readjusting her wolf-tail, the teenager dug into the next box. It was full of old weapons, rusted shuriken, a katana with a crack down the blade, nunchucks missing their chain, nothing that could be useful. But at the bottom of the box Korra discovered something curious.

It was a square tin, relatively free of dust, with a print of the silhouette of a woman with a feather in her hair and a long cigarette holder at her lips. The words 'Kap Yin Tobacco' were barely discernable on the weather-worn face of the tin. Intrigued, Korra gave the canister a shake, feeling something move inside.

"What's that?" Mako asked, coming to stand near her.

"An old tobacco tin," she answered, never seeing the panic that instantly spiked in her friend's eyes. "Toza never struck me as a smoker, but I guess even the old grouch can have a past."

She pressed her thumbs under the top of the tin, about to open it, when Mako's hand clamped down on the dented metal and tried to pull it out of her hands. Korra fought back, tugging the tin close to her chest.

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded, agitated.

"Just give it, Korra."

"What's the big deal? You think a rabid saber tooth-moose-lion is gonna jump out?" she joked. But her mirth subsided when she noticed how truly uneasy Mako's expression had become. Normally, Korra was used to dealing with Mako when he was being calculated, controlled, completely focused, a real stick in the mud. This jumpy, panicked, uncoordinated Mako was a side of him she had never seen before, so now she simply _had_ to open the tin.

"Give it to me!" Mako insisted, lunging at her. She dodged, bumping her hip against the wall.

"Why do you care so much about an old tobacco tin of Toza's?"

"Because it's not Toza's, it's mine. I forgot I put it here."

"Oh really?" Korra practically sang, intrigued. "So what's in it? Money? Stolen goods? Compromising pictures? Maybe love letters?" She cackled, using her outstretched leg to keep Mako at bay while she finally opened the tin.

They were pictures, about a dozen of them, black and white prints on glossy card. The first photograph left Korra snorting like a hyperventilating hog-monkey.

"Is this you?" she chortled, holding the picture out to him. Mako felt his whole face flush as he stared at his four year old self covered from head to toe in blueberry jam and pancake batter, naked as the day he was born. Bolin was in the picture as well, sitting on the floor at his brother's feet, dressed only in a nappy and also covered with jam and batter. "What are you doing?"

"I was trying to make breakfast for my mother's birthday," he grunted quietly.

"And you thought getting naked was the best way to do it?"

"Mom always got mad when Bolin or I messed our clothes, so I'd thought if we weren't wearing any then she couldn't be angry."

"Very logical," Korra mocked as she flipped to another photo, this one of Mako sitting in his father's lap gently holding a sleeping baby Bolin. Seeing that Mako had stopped trying to get the tin back from her, Korra began to flip through the pictures leisurely. There was one of Mako and Bolin, still just little boys, sitting in a wheelbarrow and laughing as their father pushed them. There was one of their mother, her hair pulled back and a crown of daisies weaving through the black tresses as she held the hands of an unsteady Bolin while he took his first steps. Bolin caught with a pair of chopsticks shoved up his nose. "How come all of these are from when you were little?" she asked, coming across a photo of a toddler Mako dressed in what must have been his father's overcoat and fedora.

"They're all from before my mom and dad died," he said, trying to keep the edginess out of his voice. The way he spoke, so soft and calmly but a bit shaky too, Korra stopped looking through the pictures and observed her friend. He was staring at a dust clump near his foot, his fingers tapping against his thigh, a nervous habit of his. Korra realized, with a large measure of guilt, that these were more than just pictures to Mako.

Once upon a time, they had been his life.

Looking down at the newest photograph in her hands, the seventeen year old found herself facing a poised, professional family portrait of four. Mako was held up by his mother, a tall, thinly framed woman who had passed on her sharp angular features to her eldest son. Their father was holding Bolin. He was a few inches shorter than his wife, his thickly muscled shoulders not only hinting at his Earth Kingdom heritage, but also at the laborous work he conducted to provide for his family. As she looked at the picture, noting the smiling, happy faces of both brothers, Korra wondered if this might have been the last portrait they took together as a family.

Ashamed for having intruded on something so private, Korra put the pictures back in the tin, handing it over to Mako solemnly. He took it back from her a bit hesitantly, steeling his emotions before sitting down on a rickety crate. Korra joined him.

"Why did you hide them in here?" she asked quietly. Looking down at the open tin in his lap, Mako sighed, all at once seeming very tired.

"After they died, when we lost the house and Bolin and I were on the streets, these pictures reminded me that life can be wonderful." His thumbs ran along the rusted edges of the tin, his mind flashing back to the many times when he had taken solace in these photographs, their simple existence giving him strength. "No matter how bad it got, when it was too cold, or we were too hungry, a part of me always felt hopeful, because I had these. Then Toza took us in, and gave us this place and started training us. Life was finally starting to be wonderful again and I thought, maybe it was time to put the past where it belonged."

"In a box of junk?"

"Somewhere no one could find it," he clarified. There was an edge of bitterness to his words and they surprised Korra. Reaching out, she rested her fingers in the crook of his elbow.

"Why?"

"Whenever I looked at these pictures I'd remember how happy we were and I'd wish that we could go back to that time. For years I just kept trying to recapture what we had lost. But then one day I realized that things could never go back…that chasing after the past didn't get you anywhere. And then Bolin and I started pro-bending, working towards winning the grand prize. For the first time in my life I was moving forward, and I decided that from then on I would only look to the future."

It struck Korra then just how strong Mako really was.

But he was also an idiot.

A really big idiot.

"Remembering your past isn't going to sully your future," she admonished with surprising patience. "Remembering where you come from," she paused to pull up the portrait of Mako and his family, "is the strength behind who you are; who you'll be. Don't hide from your past, don't be ashamed of it, keep it close, and use it."

The firebender smirked, wondering if he'd ever stop being surprised by this girl.

"You sound like some ancient guru," he teased.

"Actually, it's something Tenzin said to me when I tried making a connection to the Spirit World over the summer solstice. I was hoping I'd get the chance to talk to one of my past lives."

"Did you?"

The little secretive smile could have meant anything, but Mako suspected that Korra, the girl who never accepted defeat, had indeed breeched the spiritual plane, but he decided not to pursue an answer. She could tell him that story another time.

"Well, we should get back to work," he said, surveying the room and realizing that there was still a lot of clutter to clear out.

"Wait, wait. Fair's fair," Korra exclaimed, tugging on his elbow to keep him seated beside her. Mako watched curiously as she slipped her fingers into her right boot and pulled out a crudely wrapped parcel. Pulling on the coarse string that held the paper together, Korra let the wrappings fall to the floor and shyly offered Mako the contents.

They were photographs, just three of them.

The first was well worn, dog-eared and crinkled, like it had been kept in someone's pocket – or boot – for too long. There were three people in the picture, a striking man and woman dressed in fur anoraks, and a little girl, her feet missing one boot and her shirt ridding up her chubby belly. The man and woman were smiling, a warm demeanor radiating from both of them despite the bags under their eyes. The little girl, no more than three or four years old, was held in the man's large arms, fists raised proudly in the air as she pouted at the camera.

"It was taken after the White Lotus named me the Avatar," Korra explained, smiling fondly at the picture. "One of the members had just taken up photography and felt that the moment should be commemorated."

"You were cute," Mako said.

"Still am," she countered.

Mako chose not to deny or corroborate that statement.

"You look a lot like your mom," he complemented, noting the similar jaw line, nose, height, even hands. Her wide shoulders, smile, and her eyes, however, she got from her father. Turning to regard her, Korra had a soft, far away look on her face. Mako knew that expression very well. He got it every time he looked at his parents' wedding photo.

"When the White Lotus moved me to the training compound when I was nine, my dad gave me this picture to take with me so I wouldn't get lonely."

"They didn't go with you?"

"They couldn't. I mean, I was going to be training to be the Avatar. That meant bending practices and lessons on world history, politics, and law. It was years of schooling and not much time for anything else…and mom and dad aren't benders. They couldn't teach me."

Mako felt a new admiration for Korra creep into his mind. He knew she had been preparing for her Avatar duties for years, but he'd never realized just how consuming her training had been, or that it had taken her away from her family. It didn't leave much room for her to have a childhood, and somehow, that made the nineteen year old feel closer to her. In different ways, they had been forced to grow up a bit too early.

"Did you get to visit your mom and dad?" he asked.

"Oh yeah!" she said brightly, "Every week. And mom would usually come to the compound a few times every month. It wasn't far from the tribe, about two hours by sled. And I had Naga, and Master Katara. It wasn't so bad."

Sensing the melancholy and underlying loneliness that Korra buried deep down, Mako moved on to the next picture.

"Now that was a fun day," Korra said brightly. The photograph was folded neatly in half and when Mako unveiled it a barrage of people were smiling back at him. A group of mostly familiar faces were surrounding a large table. At the centre of this table was a cake.

"Your birthday?" he asked.

She nodded. "My fourteenth. It was also the day I passed my earthbending tests and was allowed to move on to firebending. See, that's Sifu Kun."

Mako looked at the man Korra had pointed out. He was burly, built like a rock, and the Earth Kingdom emblem was stitched proudly on the front of his tunic. It also looked like he had drunk a whole bottle of wine and was about to pass out, his smile goofy as he leaned heavily against the table.

Korra was seated at the head of the table, her long hair pulled back into a braid that Mako thought looked very pretty, little beaded loops of dark tresses framing her face. Her mother was seated at her right, Naga behind her, and an old, white-haired woman was at her left.

"That's Master Katara," Korra said, her eyes warming as she regarded the image of the old woman.

"Tenzin's mother," Mako commented. "You have the same hair loopies as her."

"It's the only time I ever let her do my hair like that. I singed half the braid off during my first firebending lesson. That's when I decided that a wolf-tail was probably the better choice." Korra gave her hair a playful tug and it struck Mako that he hadn't ever seen his friend with her hair down. It made him wonder if he'd find her even prettier.

"Where's your dad?" he asked, deciding that focusing back on the picture was the best way to keep himself from blushing.

"Right there." Korra pointed out a blurry smudge in the bottom right hand corner of the photo. The shadow nearly obscured Ikki and Jinora, who were making funny faces. "It was dad's first time working a camera. His thumb got in the way."

Mako surveyed the rest of the photo, noting the old, bearded men Korra said were her White Lotus guardians, and he laughed at the conniving look an infant Meelo had on his face as he tried to wiggle out of Pema's exasperated grasp and steal a handful of cake. Tenzin was there as well, seated like the dignified councilman he was.

The third and final picture in Korra's collection was actually a newspaper article, one Mako knew very well.

'**FIRE FERRETS BLAZE THROUGH THE COMPETITION**' the bold black heading proclaimed over the picture of Mako, Bolin and Korra. They were in their pro-bending uniforms, Korra and Bolin bumping fists victoriously while Mako stood stoically, but impressively, to the side. It was the picture of their first victory in the pro-bending championship tournament.

"I have the same clipping," he said, neglecting to say that his copy was framed and on the nightstand next to his bed. He'd rather Korra didn't know that her face was often the last thing he saw just before he fell asleep.

"That day was so awesome!" she crowed, leaning comfortably against his side, looping both of her arms around his. "I _never_ want to forget it."

It touched Mako that something she had shared with him and Bolin was so precious to her that she carried it around in her boot. It was obvious Korra was not one for explicit sentimentality, she liked being perceived as strong and unbending, much like himself, so the fact that she even showed him these pictures at all meant she was letting herself be a bit more vulnerable with him.

"We better get back to work," Mako said after a while, leaning against her.

"Yeah," she agreed, finding the perfect nook on his shoulder where she could rest her head, almost sighing when he very lightly rested his cheek against her temple. Neither felt the need to move for a long time, letting everything they'd said to each other sink in.

Both teens understood.

If you let someone see too much of your heart they had the potential to utterly destroy you. Finding that tin, Korra had accidentally exposed some of Mako's greatest joys and fears. So she had returned the favor, revealing some of her own heart to him like one might reveal hidden treasure. They were on even footing now, knowing a little bit more about the other, better understanding where they had come from…

..and maybe realizing that where they were headed was the same place.

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"_Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose."_

— _The Wonder Years_

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><p><em>Another frienship fic with a delicate bouquet of makorra. <em>

_The inspiration I got to write this fic actually came from my job. I work at a store that sells high end figurines and decorative pieces. While flipping through a product catalogue when I should have been doing something much more productive, I came across a figurine of a little boy dressed in his father's overcoat and fedora hat. For whatever reason, 'Mako' flashed through my mind and from that tiny spark came this fic. It's really funny how inspiration works. _

_Also, for any FMA fans reading this, yes, the family portrait was very much inspired by that famous Elric family photo. _

_Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this story and if you'd like to leave a review, I will not get in your way :)_


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